Neverwhere: The Journey Continues
by Andi de Tarauger
Summary: Picks up where the book left off, with a new adventure for Door, Richard, and the marquis. But what exactly does the woman from the prologue have to do with anything? Title under construction.
1. Prologue

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A/N: Well. Not much to say about this one, except...here goes my first serious Neverwhere fic ^_^ The prologue occurs sometime halfway through the book...when Door, Richard, Hunter, and Lamia have left the Floating Market, and the marquis de Carabas *squeals and glomps him* arrives looking for them. The rest of it follows the book. ^^ Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me and other de Carabas fangirls, Neil Gaiman owns everything. I claim only rights to Nike, as of now. I will probably invent other charries later, and claim rights to them then. *g*

Yes, the title is under construction. Suggestions are greatly appreciated.

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~* Neverwhere: The Journey Continues *~  
~ Prologue ~

The marquis de Carabas entered the Floating Market with a shiver of apprehension. That, instantly, should have told him to leave. His intuition was rarely wrong – and he was liable to brag about this, given any opportunity to do so. Nevertheless, he proceeded inside – even if Door wasn't here, he couldn't take the chance of not checking and missing her.

He walked around the market, seeing various people pass him by. He marveled at them, as he always did. There was so much diversity down here. London Above was so...common, so bland, so _similar_. How did Topsiders stand it, anyway?

The marquis wondered at this sudden poeticness as he passed the Sewer Folk's stall. The stench was enough to jar him out of the mood. Frowning ever so slightly, he held his nose in a way that suggested that _this_ was the latest fashion, thankyouverymuch, and anyone who didn't follow it was behind the times, and inferior to him. Several people passing by saw him and quickly copied his motion. He would have smiled, except it is difficult to really smile while holding your nose. It was painful, and the marquis de Carabas was never willing to endure any pain past that which was absolutely necessary.

After a thorough search of the Market, the marquis was forced to conclude that Door, Hunter, and the rather clueless Topsider weren't there anymore. He would have sighed aloud, but his throat was still healing, and he didn't want to be in any more pain than he had to be. So he satisfied himself with a dramatic lowering of his eyes and sweep of his cloak, before proceeding to exit the Market in search of them.

He did not know where they were, of course, nor where they had gone. He wasn't, however, concerned with such trivial matters now. He had enough contacts and enough faith in his charms to be able to figure out their path. No, there would be no problem in finding them...that is, if he didn't get himself killed. Again. He'd have to watch his step.

The marquis had not gone more than four paces away from the Market when a figure stepped into his path. Speaking of watching his step...

"Well, well," the figure said in a low, smooth voice. "What have we here?"

The marquis would have groaned aloud, but it would only antagonize his healing throat more, plus it would have been undignified. So he swallowed his annoyance and whispered instead, with a graceful sweep of his cloak, "My lady de Tarauger. What a pleasant surprise."

A snort of laughter followed his speech. "If I know you, de Carabas, it's nothing of the sort. But I _am _pleased you remembered me. My sister did not think you would."

"How could I forget so fair a face?" Then the woman who was standing in front of him drew a long slender rapier and held it a few inches away from his neck. The marquis coughed. "My dear demoiselle, is this really necessary?"

"Knowing you, de Carabas...need I answer?"

The marquis frowned. "Oh, come on now. After all, not only are we childhood – " he was going to say "friends", but thought better of it " – ...acquaintances, but you are violating Market Truce."

"And, conveniently enough, we are standing several meters away from the Market," finished the woman, her faint smile growing slightly. "Now. Where are _you _off to in such a hurry? Stay and chat awhile. I haven't seen you in years."

The marquis coughed again. "And, I imagine, are as happy about that as I am. Now...as to where I am off to, let's just say it involves the Lady Door, your sister, and men in possession of sharp pointy objects not unlike the one you are threatening me with." The sentence proved to be too much effort; the marquis doubled over as best as he could with a rapier at his throat and coughed up several mouthfuls of sewer water.

The woman frowned and lowered her rapier. "What happened to you? You sound terrible." Then, as if seeing him for the first time, she looked him over thoroughly. "You lookterrible, too."

"I _feel _terrible," the marquis rasped in reply, coughing some more.

She surveyed him again, disdainfully. "You look," she added, "as though you've died." The marquis nodded, pleased that she was catching on. "Again?" He repeated the nod, and the woman's frown lessened slightly. She shook her head, amused. "So, what's your task? The one so important that you had to bring yourself back from the dead to do?"

The marquis cleared his throat with a few more coughs, satisfied that the sewer water was staying down. "Actually, I'm saving the Lady Door's behind from a rather untimely end," was his hoarse reply. "Now, if you don't mind?" When she didn't move, he added, rather pointedly, "I didn't get my throat cut to stand around and be threatened by a Godspeaker."

"Really? I thought that was your sole purpose in life." When he made no reply to her sarcasm, she continued. "So _that's _what that cloth is doing around your neck. I wondered." Again, he made no reply, and the woman sighed, a gusty, theatrical sigh. "Well...I suppose I should let you go. But only because it's the Lady Door." Sheathing her rapier, she stepped aside the narrow path, allowing the marquis to go by. He inclined his head as he passed her, a bow with only the slightest hint of mocking.

"De Carabas?"

He hadn't gone more than ten paces. Turning, he faced the woman squarely. "You said this involved my sister?" He nodded.

There was a plea in the woman's eyes, and her voice shook slightly. "After...after all this is over." A pause. "...Send me word of her, would you? How she's doing, where she is?"

The marquis's face softened. Almost gently, he nodded. Then, in one of his rare, completely sincere gesture, he threw the woman a sweeping salute. She inclined her head at him, a repeat of his earlier motion.

"Mademoiselle, good day to you." She said nothing, only nodded, and the marquis strode off, trying to pace himself, knowing his newly healed wounds and resurrected body could only take so much.


	2. Chapter One

A/N: Aaaaahhh. Guys, I'm soooo sorry for taking this long to update I've been working on final exams, some Les Mis fics, and a new Tamora Pierce one ('tis called Goldflame: Mage's Dream...if you're fans, do check it out! =)), so I've totally forgotten about this one. ::sheepish look::

Anyway, for all fans of NWhere who haven't done so already...READ AMERICAN GODS AND STARDUST!!!!! THEY'RE SOOOOOO FRIGGIN' GOOD!!!! /Neil promo

Dom, Mickey, Jaina Kenobi, mia, Fairytale Dream, Vara, Arian3, Akumu Nakidasu, thank you so much for reviewing! I'm so sorry it's taken this long...it's summer, so I'll try to make less space between updates in the future. Yes, there's more, and I'm hoping to make it quite long. Thanks for sticking with me =)

This chapter's short, and I apologize. I just wanted my NWhere muse back...the next one will hopefully be longer, and the third even more so. ::grin::

Disclaimer: ::groans:: Must I? Wait, wait, don't answer that. All characters used in this production (this chapter at least) belong to the genius Neil Gaiman. ::bowbowworshipworship::

::: Neverwhere: The Journey Continues :::

:: Chapter One ::

Door was pacing along the length of a room in Blackfriar Station. It was the room with the fireplace where she and the marquis had last seen Richard. It was the room she and the marquis had been in when the marquis had gone to retrieve Richard. And it was the room that Door was now in, waiting for both of them to return.

"But are you absolutely sure they'll be here soon?" she asked, rounding suddenly on the short man in the room with her.

The man, a butler of Door's grandfather's who had come to work for the Black Friars upon his master's death, greatly resembled an extremely pompous, stuffy, and monk-robed, Snow White-esque dwarf and was constantly clearing his throat into a black handkerchief. "_No, _my lady," he said, following a fit of coughing, in overly patient tones. "I am not _absolutely sure _of anything. But from what His Excellency de Carabas has said, I am hoping that they will return soon."

"Oh, screw you," Door said in the tones of someone who has said this so many times they don't truly mean it anymore. Ignoring the extremely offended look on the little man's face, she returned to pacing.

Door wasn't a patient girl. The fact that they'd been waiting for nearly an hour didn't help matters much.

After several more minutes, the butler made a timid suggestion. "It truly may help my lady's nerves if she were to stop pacing, sit down, and drink a nice cup of tea to calm herself..." A withering look from Door effectively silenced him, and after a few minutes he muttered, "Or perhaps not."

_:::::_

"The last time I saw you," Richard told the marquis conversationally, "you were in a wheelchair."

"The last time I saw _you_," retorted the marquis, "you were extremely nosy, damned inquisitive, and wanting to know everything about everything." He turned to face Richard, that inexorable grin on his face. "Obviously, nothing has changed."

Richard grinned. He'd missed everything about London Below, even the marquis's dry humour and sarcasm. "Good to see you too, de Carabas."

The marquis turned back to the street in front of him, still grinning. He'd grown to like having Richard around; he had a good heart, and his ignorance about the Underside and consequency stupid questions were extremely refreshing. It was good to have him back, really.

They hadn't been walking long, but already Richard could feel his blood being infused with the air from the Underside. He breathed in deeply, then choked on the air and began to cough wildly. The marquis paused, amused; he waited for Richard to finish coughing before shaking his head and continuing his walk. Richard didn't care; he was too happy to be back down. He was going to see Door again! And the Black Friars! And possibly any of the other crazy people he had met on his stay in London Below. He set off after the marquis at sort of a skip, humming a various medley of songs under his breath. The marquis just looked up at him, shook his head some more, and walked a little quicker.

Soon, they reached the Blackfriars' abbey. Their welcome there was distinctly warmer than the last time, Richard thought with a grin; two of the friars bowed on either side of them, ushering them in. Richard walked behind the marquis, who obviously knew where he was going (or was doing a very good job acting as such).

They eventually arrived at the edge of a parlour-like room. The marquis opened the door and spread his hand with a flourish to welcome Richard in. The young man had barely had time to register the room's appearance when he was tackled very suddenly by a large weight with dark auburn hair.

"Hello, Door," Richard gasped, rather out of breath, then registered who was hugging him. "_Door!" _he said again, in an altogether different tone and hugged her back.

Eventually she pulled away, beaming up at Richard. Her fire-opal eyes glittered up at him; he suspected that there was some wetness in them that made them gleam so. She looked slightly cleaner; her hair was tangled, but had less dirt in it; she wore as odd of an assortment of clothing as usual – baggy jeans with a tulle skirt forced over, a sweater with a few holes over a white shirt, and a lacy coat under her usual heavy one – but they all looked fairly dirt-free. It was so good to see her again.

"It's so good to see you again," Door said breathlessly, looking happier than Richard had ever seen her. All he could do was nod and hug her again.

The marquis cleared his throat pointedly. "Lady Door? Now that Mister Mayhew is here, may we go?" Richard glanced at de Carabas; he was rocking from foot to foot, looking impatient (but elegantly so). It rather resembled a large cat tired of being in one place, aching for excitement.

Door looked at him crossly. "Give us time for a proper reunion, de Carabas," she berated him, then turned back to Richard, eyes glowing with joy. "You'll have to tell me everything that happened," she told him, slipping her hand into his. It was a friendly, almost childish gesture rather than a romantic one, and Richard found it comforting. "What made you come back?"

"It's something of a long story," Richard said uneasily, glancing at de Carabas.

Door noticed, and sighed. "Well, it'll have to wait, then, I suppose...de Carabas is right, anyway. We should get moving."

"But where are we going?" Richard asked, confused.

"I'll explain on the way," she replied, shoulding a bag that she'd dropped upon tackling Richard. "Come on."

Confused and realizing that this would probably become his usual state of mind in the Underside, Richard followed Door and the marquis outside of the abbey. He glanced back at it and remarked, "You know, I wish I could have seen the abbot again. It would have been nice..."

As if on cue, the abbot, supported by two friars, appeared out of the gloom and fog at the entrance. "Good to see you again too, young man," the abbot chuckled.

"R-right," Richard said uneasily, waved, remembered that the abbot was blind, and instead said, "See you," before following the marquis and Door away.


End file.
